dog gone!

[shaft]

a couple of days ago i found a dingo bedding spot. it afforded good views of the surrounding bush. i stopped, took a couple of photos and moved on . minutes later i looked behind me to see two dogs aproaching the bed. no shot was offered so i continued on.
today i approached the same spot. the bed had those little lion ant traps in the sand of the bed. you know, the ones that look like tiny volcanos (for want of a better description) with a predetory bug that eats the trapped, struggling ant, hiding under the bottom. i concluded that the dingos hadnt been back as they would have destroyed the lion ants traps by use. planning to stop there for a break initially, i continued on having seen this obvious sign of inactivity. i guess i moved about three meters from that bed when a dingo loped into view some 15 meters away. he caught me moving and bolted. had i stopped and sat as i intended, i perhaps may have grassed a dingo. in this case my bushcraft let me down!

[jindydiver]

That is just the way it goes sometimes hey.

We have lots of ant lions down this way too. :wink:

[Bowmancam]

Here a lil bit of info for ya. Ant-lions are juvinile lacewings. In other words the pupate (metamorphasise) and become a lacewing and can then fly. You can sometimes find ant-lions wandering around with a kind of cocoon of dead ants wrapped around them ... ( not just a pretty face am i ;) ) (LOL) ...

Good luck with it in the future mate. Bushcraft can never be mastered mate, and is always a learning process. Keep at 'em.


Cheers, Cam

[shaft]

scince ive been married (5 years, sh*t, nearly 6!) ive put on weight. i was once walking round no excersise at 70kg. im now 100.
life dictates that you do this or that to keep the family going. you forget about yourself.
but as it turns out, if i didnt start thinking about myself, my family will suffer. bowhunting means walking, walking is excersize.
ive always loved the bush. i dont need to hunt to love it. me and dad would get a carton and just drive through the deserted forestry tracks out back of grafton. we'd stop and look at this or that. he'd recount the days of his youth living inland from taree, fishing, hunting, recount the old log cutters and bullock drivers yarns, of pubs, the fights, the dances.
the bush envelopes you in a draught of welcome. it's entertainment, flowering plants, song birds, a gentle breeze on a hot morning. ive come home. and bowhunting brought me back.